It'll Be Our Little Secret
by fadedillusion101
Summary: There are just some things you don't want anybody to know about. *previously known as Crossed Fingers* rrb/ppg, r&r.
1. pastry bean - blues

**Author: **FadedIllusion101

**Title: **Crossed Fingers

**Genre:** Romance

**Pairings: **RrB/PpG

**Rating: **K-T

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot line.

**Summary: **A three-shot involving the 'Puffs and 'Ruffs.

**Notes:** Told in third person POV.

**Chapter 1:** Blues

**Crossed Fingers**

Bubbles hated coming to Pastry Bean alone. She hated it with a burning passion. She saw all the happy couples skip in and plant themselves at a booth, giggling and sipping their coffees. She saw them kiss until they were dizzy, and when they opened their eyes, the blue 'Puff saw them blushing madly. Towards the far side of the shop sat the golden-haired beauty herself at a mahogany table, isolated from the rest of the customers, frowning and slurping down her latte, glaring at the table like it killed her first-born then flicking her piercing blue eyes up to the pairs. She was green with envy, she knew, but that didn't stop her from scoffing and rolling her eyes at them.

Bubbles felt disappointed with herself. She normally wasn't like this, but she was tired of masking her emotions with a smile embedded into her face. The typically effervescent teen was fed up with everyone Townsville believing that she was naïve and blissful every second of every day. Nobody was. It was a known fact.

The bell on the door ringed as yet another couple strolled in, much to Bubble's dislike. Bubbles watched them walk to a seat with linked arms, the girl's head on his broad shoulder. They sat down and a young waitress greeted them with a warming smile and a voice like velvet. Bubbles kept watching them, occasionally letting her eyes flit away to the window beside her.

The sun was going down, the sky a dusky pink and a soft orange, the blazing sun barely in view. Some stars were already out, twinkling high above, and you could just make out the outline of the moon. The sun's rays were spilling into the shop, lighting up the shop like a candles glow. The entire scenery added to the romantic atmosphere, and that made her a tad more jealous.

Her eyes were glued back on the couple, watching them hold each others hands and gaze admiringly into each others eyes. The girl had wispy, light brown hair and robin egg colored eyes, specks of gold hidden among the soft blue, that were behind glasses. She had a heart-shaped face with a rosy blush spread along her nose. The boy stuck the straw of his mocha up his nose, his girlfriend giggled uncontrollably. His messy chocolate-brown hair was shoved under an ebony beanie carelessly. He had mysterious bronze colored eyes, freckles danced along his face and his lips were curved into a half grin. Bubbles knew these teenagers, Robin Snyder and Mitch Michelson.

She was surprised to say the least. Mitch was a troublemaker, a boy who literally screams danger, skipping class when he got the chance to go skateboarding with friends. Robin, however, is a meek girl who rarely lifts her head from a book, her head high up in the clouds away from the rest down in Townsville. They were complete opposites, but everyone knows how the saying goes.

Opposites attract.

Bubbles sighed and twirled strands of her blonde hair around a slender finger, lost in her own thoughts, her eyes still fixated on Robin and Mitch. A woman stepped in front of Bubbles, blocking her from the couple. She had her dirty blonde locks tied up in a neat bun and eyes that reminded Bubbles of a seashell. Grey with hints of faded white. "Miss, would you be ordering anything else today?" She asked.

"No, I'm fine," Bubbles craned her neck to look at Robin and Mitch, who were gulping down their iced lattes. Jealousy overcame her, and her eyes felt a familiar sting that she knew far to well. She tried to swallow, but it felt like her throat was caving in on her. A few salty tears dripped down her porcelain cheeks. The blue 'puff rubbed at them aggressively, a whimper escaped the tightness of her throat.

"Miss, are you alright?" The waitress placed a tanned hand on Bubbles' slumped shoulder.

"No, I'm fine," Bubbles choked back a sob. "I'm just fine."

The waitress rubbed Bubbles back and nodded knowingly, "I know how you feel. And don't worry, it'll all get better. It always does," She whispered to Bubbles. "And hey, you never know what's just around the corner, you may find somebody you never thought you'd be with..."

Bubbles stared at the table, absorbing what the waitress had told her. She knew she shouldn't be jealous, but it was impulsive, she just couldn't help herself. Deep in the back of her mind, an image of a handsome prince on a white horse was tucked away. A fantasy she just recently shoved back into the dust, giving up on it entirely. But when the woman spoke, it slowly creeped up and dazzled under a spotlight in Bubbles mind. The petite blonde was suddenly filled with hope. Someday, a cute boy would ask her to be his, and they would live happily ever after, just like she dreamed as a child.

"Thank you," Bubbles lips curved upwards into a meek smile.

The waitress beamed, "I'll be right back with your check." Bubbles nodded and her eyes drifted back towards the window, the sky was completely dark now, and millions of stars stood out among the navy blue. The girl smiled to herself, looking at her reflection in the window. Blonde locks tied up into two curly ringlets, powder blue eyes filled with love, full pink lips, a button nose, and a pale complexion.

She never thought one could sit in a coffee shop listening to music that belonged in an elevator, playing with the creams and sugar packets, eyeing the couples, and blankly staring out the glass window for over three hours. Bubbles looked at the table.

She had ordered five Pumpkin Spice Lattes, all of which are now bone dry.

* * *

Later on, Bubbles skipped out of Pastry Bean with her head held high, the rhythm and lyrics to her favorite song, Yellow, running circles in her mind. She was thinking about what the kind waitress said to her earlier

_"...you may find somebody you never thought you'd be with..."_

What in the world did that mean? Did she know something Bubbles didn't know? The blue 'puff was slightly unnerved. Bubbles was so wrapped up in tapping the beat to the Coldplay song on her leg that she didn't see a man walking straight ahead of her. Of course, as all movies and books go, Bubbles smacked head first into his chest and fell flat on her bottom.

"Watch where you're-" The man started but then abruptly stopped. "Bubbles?"

Bubbles rubbed at her aching head, not even glancing as to who she had clumsily ran into, "Yes it's me." The contents of her purse were scattered all over the sidewalk.

"Uh, here, let me help," the man awkwardly spoke. He bent down to pick up her lipstick just as she was reaching for it. Their hands brushed and Bubbles' eyes shot up. Her eyes locked with cerulean orbs, sun-kissed locks brushing against long eyelashes.

Boomer of the Rowdyruff Boys.

"What are you doing?" Bubbles was baffled.

"Um...would this count as a good deed?"

She lightly smiled at his shyness and spoke, "Yeah. I guess it does," Bubbles nodded.

They quietly scooped up Bubbles' items and dropped them back into her purse. People scuffled around the two super powered teens as they stood, their eyes widening at the sworn enemies. They hurriedly ran off before a full-blown fight started before their eyes. Though the citizens were used to it, that didn't mean they liked being in the center of the havoc. Soon the entire pavement was empty, the only people remaining being Bubbles and Boomer.

Boomer cleared his throat, but nothing came out of his mouth. Bubbles watched his eyes travel everywhere but her, the skyscrapers, the ground below them, the moon above them. Whenever he would meet her eyes he would flush and fidget. The girl decided to break the silence, "Thank you."

"N-no problem," he stuttered. "Don't tell my brothers about this. They'll burn all my Coldplay albums if they find out about this."

Bubbles eyes slowly traveled to his face, "Did you say Coldplay?"

Boomer impish grinned and scratched behind his ear, "Yeah they're awesome. Well, I think so."

Bubbles heart was soaring and cartwheeling. She had never met someone who liked Coldplay. That was her favorite band in the entire universe! Their songs were touching and deep, and every one of them had a message behind it. The walls of her room were covered in Coldplay posters and news letters.

_"...you may find somebody you never thought you'd be with..."_

This boy, her reckless male counterpart, may be the one she has waited for her entire life. Her knight in shining armor that sat atop the white horse was Boomer Jojo, the supposedly sensitive member of the infamous and cruel trio, the Rowdyruff Boys. It made since, they were counterparts, there had to be something positive between the two. One of them was a kind hearted, sappy heroine and the other was a somewhat considerate villain. They were complete opposites, but everyone knows how the saying goes.

Opposites attract.

Bubbles squealed, "I love Coldplay!" Her hands rested at her beating heart.

"You do?" Boomer raised an eyebrow.

"Does it look like I'm lying?" Bubbles pointed at her

Boomer chuckled, "You don't seem like the kind of person who would like alternative rock."

"You'll be surprised at all the things I like," Bubbles said.

"Well, Bubbles, how about I take you to dinner and you can tell me all about said things," he genuinely smiled. He smiled. Bubbles felt like the sun had burst inside of her. She suddenly felt warm and a cheerful glow was radiating from her. Had she ever felt this way, she would've called it magic. A rosy blush creeped on to her face when she realized she was standing there, grinning like the joker, and not answering him.

"That sounds great!" Bubbles' heart skipped a beat, leaped out of her chest, and into his calloused hands.

And so, they walked off towards a shop Bubbles knew inside out, Pastry Bean. Her arms were looped around one of his, and her head rested on his upper arm. His hand was calmly resting at her waist, the other shoved deep into his pocket. Her form seemed to be made to fit next to his. They were like Bonnie and Clyde, salt and pepper, Mickey and Minnie, mac and cheese, peanutbutter and jelly, the yin yang circle, and any possible pair that can never be apart.

When they walked in through the door, the bell announced that another couple had strode in. Heads swiveled around to look at the newcomers, their eyes bulging out of their heads when they realized who it was. Boomer and Bubbles took a seat in the corner at the mahogany table the blue 'puff had sat in earlier. Bubbles felt a pair of eyes on her, and she instantly turned around.

The waitress from before was beaming at her from behind the counter, her silver eyes glistening with joy. She gave Bubbles a thumbs up and strutted to a table to place in orders.

Another pair of eyes were on her, and when she whirled around in her seat, Boomer was tracing her with his sapphire eyes. When he caught her eyes, he blushed a deep scarlet and held the menu up to his face, trying to cover the embarrassing blush. He dared a look from behind the menu and met her eyes. Boomer made a silly face and hid behind the menu again.

Bubbles giggled, he was such a goofball. An adorable goofball.

_"...you may find somebody you never thought you'd be with..."_

* * *

**A/N:**

**I thought it was pretty decent for my first Blues. Review and favorite please, it would mean the world to me! Next chapter: Greens or Reds. Say in your review which pairing should be next. :)**


	2. nothing was the same - reds

**Author: **FadedIllusion101

**Title: **Crossed Fingers

**Genre:** Romance

**Pairings: **RrB/PpG

**Rating: **K-T

**Disclaimer:** Yep. Still owning nothing over here. -_-

**Summary: **A three-shot involving the relationships between the 'puffs and 'ruffs. Light and fluffy romance for the blues, a passionate and hot romance for the greens, and a comforting and heartening romance for the reds. RrB/PpG. R&R.

**Notes:** Told in third person POV. Blossom and Brick are around 14 years old and have normal human features.

**Chapter 1:** Nothing is the Same (Reds)

**Crossed Fingers**

_Nothing was the same._

Blossom stood over a grave, her rosy eyes cheerlessly tracing the tombstone popping out of the ground. One of her dainty hands cupped her elbow, and the other was clenched in a fist, her white knuckles pressing tightly against her dry lips. Tears flowed freely down her blotchy and red face that rivaled the color of her bow atop her head. They dripped down to the lifeless grass below her, and with her enhanced hearing, she could her them splatter on the hill behind the howling winds.

The sky above her was a jumbled mix of hues, a cerulean blue towards the top, and a pretty violet that flowed into a soft green. The green was cut off by a honey yellow line, and below that was the blazing sun and the dusty orange and bleeding red skies. Blossom liked it when the sky was "colored." It reminded her of the good ol' days, when her and her sisters, Bubbles and Buttercup, were in kindergarten. A place where they scribbled away on coloring pages and knocked over blocks like the monsters in Townsville. A place where they would play out skits, where the three girls will be given a role and they would dress up foolishly. The bow-topped girl always grinned at the thought of her and Bubbles prancing around in heels and boas, while Buttercup was zooming around the living room with a paper bag hat and a race car in hand.

Blossom wished it was just a skit when they told her that the Professor had died. That it was just a sick, practical joke, or that she was even on those reality television shows that pranked you in front of millions, but it wasn't. It pained her deeply, so deeply that she could feel claws snake around her heart and crush it, smashing it into thousands of pieces and letting the blood drip down into her empty body. It chilled her to the very bone when she recalled how motionless her father's body was on the hospital bed and how limp his larger hand was in hers. His chest was perfectly still, no longer rising and falling in that soothing rhythm, and his precious lab coat that he was never seen without hung lonely over the chair beside him, the pens he jotted down notes and equations with still snug in the pocket. On that dreadful day, Blossom couldn't tear her eyes away from her father's lifeless chocolate orbs as she stood in a daze, and long after they closed his eyelids, she could still see them boring in the back of her mind. There wasn't a single drop of blood on him, which puzzled Blossom as her blonde sister cried and her green-eyed sister willed herself not to. The pink 'puff remembered a million questions clouding her mind as she motionlessly stood. There was a strange buzzing sound in her ears while the doctors solemnly paced about, apologizing over and over again in comforting mutters that they couldn't save him. One held Bubbles to her chest while the blue 'puff wailed, and another attempted to come up to Buttercup, but once he put his clammy hand on her shoulder, she grunted and stormed to the other side of the room. Blossom felt dizzy, the questions circling around her head like a hurricane as she mentally destroyed the room. Blossom never felt that faint, even when a monster manages to land a vicious blow on her. Then again,

_nothing was the same._

The doctors sadly informed her that the Professor had cancer. Bubbles cried on Buttercup's shoulder even harder, her choked sobs filling the silent air, and Buttercup's unwavering eyes never left the ground, she seemed to be fascinated with her scuffed and muddy converse. Blossom, however, incredulously looked up from the Professor's lifeless form, dragging her eyes away from his socked feet and looked at the doctor with bone dry, rosy pink eyes. The pink 'puff scowled. There was no way the Professor lived life with lung cancer and didn't tell anybody. Blossom knew her father was a secretive man, but she never knew he was hiding this deep of secrets in the back of his mind. She argued with herself for days, saying that he probably didn't know he had cancer. But now, as she looked at his tombstone and felt his ghostly presence around her, she knew that it was something he did know for sure, he just didn't want it to be a burden to the girls.

With every passing day, she wonders why he didn't tell a soul about his serious condition, maybe he wouldn't be gone if he had told his daughters. Surely, they would've done something about it. There was only some minor changes in him, and that was only in his physical appearance. Stress lines were written all over his face from years of hard work, and his obsidian hair was speckled with shades of grey and faded white. He didn't look sick, maybe his skin got paler due to age, but he didn't look feverish or deadly ill. Even after an agonizing and heart breaking year, Blossom still hasn't moved on from the loss of her beloved father and creator, and from the looks of it, neither have her sisters.

She visits him in the Townsville Cemetary once or twice a week, leaving flowers behind. When she gets there, she sees the vibrant pin wheel Bubbles had given to him on his birthday, and she could see the folded pieces of paper Buttercup always left for him. She had spent days on end learning how to do origami because she knew the Professor enjoyed the little things. Blossom thinks about him every day and every night, and how it was all so sudden. Blossom would walk around their house, expecting the Professor to frantically run out of his lab and out the door, shouting out apologies and explaining to them that he was late for a meeting. It was hard to believe the smell of chocolate chip waffles wasn't her alarm clock on a Saturday morning anymore. She could no longer hear his coffee brewing or his newspaper crinkling under his hands at dawn. The girl couldn't watch him do experiments and run tests in his lab any longer. Her sisters and her don't watch a movie every Sunday, with buttered popcorn and mounds of ice-cream. It just wasn't the same without hearing the Professor's hearty laugh at one of the chuckle-worthy scenes.

_Nothing was the same._

Unknown to Blossom, her male equivalent stood behind her at a respectable distance. He gazed at the petite girl in front of him, whom he had observed for few moments. To say the least, he was baffled. Blossom, the confident leader of the Powerpuff Girls, was quietly crying over something, her dainty hand slapped on her mouth to keep her hushed. Her body shook with nearly silent sobs, and she sniffled her nose from time to time.

Brick's forte was never soothing hysterical girls. It never was and it never will be. But, as he stared at his equivalent with widened red eyes, there was a voice that beckoned him to her. He always was a curious boy, he always had to learn something or get to the bottom of something, it was a part of his nature. Perhaps he'd hold this against her, yeah, that's what he'll do. He'll threaten to tell the entire city of Townsville that there heroine was crying. Sobbing, actually. Brick stalked over, his eyebrows flying to his hairline because she hadn't turned around. She had superhearing, right? And he had very heavy footsteps. He shrugged.

Brick tapped her shoulder, and she spun around, her eyes glazed over with tears and her button nose cherry red. "What's wrong with you?" The red 'ruff asked. She stepped aside and allowed him to read the tombstone before him with a picture of a beaming man with a white lab coat. He noticed that it was clean, unlike the tombstones around it that were literally sinking into the ground, or getting eaten alive by a strange moss. Blossom shifted beside him as he read the words she dreaded.

_Here lies Professor John Utonium, a beloved father and respected scientist. A true hero to many, a man of great authority, and an inspiration to all. _

Under the grave rested a spinning pin wheel, dirt-covered notes and folded art, and a bouquet of blossoms. Blossom's voice pierced through the river of thoughts that ran through his head. "This may sound very stupid, and you'll probably say no..." Blossom rubbed at her already raw nose. "But can I have a hug?" Blossom shakily asked.

He looked at her. At the desperate glint in her misty eyes, the petite red lips in a pout, the two crystalline tears that were gliding down the path of her porcelain cheeks. The red clad boy hesitated a few moments before he awkwardly looped his arms around her petite waist. He stood in a bewildered state, his calloused hands resting comfortably on her waist. That innocent action had him blushing madly from head to toe, his face as red as a tomato. She had her arms tightly clutched around his neck like a vine twisting around a tree, and a tiny smirk flashed across his chiseled face when he saw that she had to stand on her tippy toes. The smirk was gone the next second. When her floppy bow brushed across his face, he realized something.

He had never hugged anyone before.

Well, aside from doggy-piling and messing around with his brothers, this was his first _real _hug, and not some awkward side-hug bullshit most middle schoolers like to do. It was a warm and fuzzy feeling that he oddly liked, whirling around his stomach like a cyclone. Something bubbled in the pit of his stomach. Whether it was because of being hugged, or the fact that Blossom's perfume was rolling off her in waves, a strawberry and peach scent that he felt addicted to, he didn't know. Blossom sobbed softly in the crook of his neck, rocking from side to side on her toes. Blossom shifted. Her arms dropped down from his neck to his torso, where she hugged him like a child hugging a teddy bear, and he had to bite his lip from moaning at how _good _her hands felt running down his chest. "He didn't even say anything," Blossom buried her head in his chest, fresh and salty tears leaked through his sweater. "He didn't say he had cancer." His female counterpart shook her head, a frustrated action he had always done. She clutched him even tighter.

She gripped at his sweater, squeezing it in her hands, "Who doesn't tell anybody that they have cancer?" Blossom choked on another sob. His heart skipped a beat. Brick gently rubbed her back, taking it as a good sign when she wept softer. Brick didn't talk or throw in any comments, fearing he might say something wrong, and he'll be battered around brutally by a pink streak of speeding light. This is her dead father she's talking-er, crying about. Some things are better left unsaid, anyway.

They stood there for a while, their arms around one another. Blossom slowly calmed down, a hiccup flying out of her mouth every few seconds, and Brick still subconsciously running his hands up and down her back. An arm snaked around his side to Blossom's face, where she rubbed her damp cheeks dry. Her pink orbs widened suddenly, as if suddenly realizing she was crying over her dead father in her counterpart's strong arms. She hastily staggered out of his grip, and Brick stood, his arms open and an eyebrow raised.

"I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking...and, um-" Blossom stammered. The two fell into awkward silence. And if the wind wasn't blowing so violently, you could hear the buzzing of a fly's wings nearby, or the fast beating of their hearts as they stared at one another, flabbergasted. Brick coughed and opened his mouth, no words. Fuck, he was always good with words. His mouth seemed dry, and he was still trying to calm his heartbeat. Blossom sighed and ran a hand through her auburn mane, "Please don't tell anyone that I-that I cried. It would make me sound...unproffesional," she decided on the word.

Brick stared at her, and when the wind whipped her hair around, he got a whiff of that heavenly fruity scent again. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, trying to erase the blush on his normally tan complexion. "Unprofessional, hm?" His eyes traveled up and down her curvy body, and suddenly he felt like his old self. He smirked at regaining his magical talent with wording things. "It's gonna cost you. Nothing's free, you know," he smirked.

She sniffed, "Fine. What is it you want?"

"A kiss," he replied smoothly.

"No way," she shook her head. "I'm not...no."

"Well, then," Brick's bangs shadowed his ruby eyes. "I'm sure Townsville would love to hear about how their precious little hero was crying all over my shoulder, a Rowdyruff's shoulder-"

Brick was cut off when a pair of soft, warm lips brushed against his own, and dainty hands rested on the side of his face, pressing him even closer. He smelled the same strawberry, felt the same wispy hairs from before, and the silky feeling of a floppy bow on his forehead. Blossom, the leader of the Powerpuff Girls, was kissing him. His arms roped around her waist, but as the kiss deepened, slowly traveled down to her hips. The two were only kissing for a few moments, but for Brick, it felt like years. When she broke the kiss, he rested his forehead on hers, trying to catch his breath. Blossom had the same idea in mind.

Blossom backed away, and Brick missed her warmth. "You say one word about this, and I'm going to hunt you down. Got it?" Blossom threatened.

Brick nodded, not even listening to the warnings rolling off her tongue. He just stared at her, a goofy and idiotic grin plastered on his face. The boy didn't care what she said, as long as he got to hear her velvety voice. Blossom seemed to notice the way he was looking at her. She blushed madly and sheepishly waved, zipping off into the sky with her signature coral pink streak trailing behind her. When she was out of sight, he realized something.

He had never kissed anyone before.

* * *

**a/n:**

**So, I revised this a little. Mostly the beginning. Ugh, now on to chapter 3.**


	3. i won't leave your side - greens

**Author: **FadedIllusion101

**Title: **Crossed Fingers

**Genre:** Romance

**Pairings: **RrB/PpG

**Rating: **K-T

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot line.

**Summary: **A three-shot involving the 'puffs and 'ruffs. Light and fluffy romance for the Blues, a passionate and hot romance for the Greens, and a comforting and heartening romance for the Reds.

**Notes:** Told in third person POV.

**Chapter 3: **Greens

**Crossed Fingers**

Butch was lounging in his bed, shirtless, munching on a bag of potato chips and intensely playing Angry Birds on his phone. His hair was spiky, and it fell in his face, shadowing his jade green eyes. Buttercup was lying comfortably beside him, her choppy ebony hair in a messy ponytail, her head resting on his broad shoulder. A green shirt was on her petite body, the buttons popped open at the top revealing just a hint of her breasts. She had herself propped up on her elbows, and she was watching the soaring birds unsuccessfully knock down the blocks and attack the boasting pigs. The green 'puff smirked, thinking about how bad her boyfriend is at the game.

Butch didn't care about the game anymore. All he could think about was her. The warmth on his shoulder from her, how her hair fell against his neck and collarbone, tickling him with its soft obsidian strands. The pressure of her torso glued to his, their legs in a tangled mess, like a fly caught in a spider's web.

He thought about how they first got together, during another fight between the Powerpuffs and Rowdyruffs. Butch had just punched Buttercup into a building, and he watched her stand up and shake the fallen debris out of her shaggy hair. She charged at him, a faint lime green fist beam growing stronger in his hands. Butch had meant to put up his shield, and Buttercup had expected that, too, but he didn't. The green clad boy was too caught up in Buttercup's persistance. Hell, he was too caught up by Buttercup herself. Buttercup didn't skid to a halt quick enough, and well, she smacked into her counterpart head on.

They fell dramatically to the ground, crashing on the cracked pavement beneath them. Then, Butch noticed something. A soft pair of lips were pressed against his. Buttercup must've realized it the moment he did, because both of their eyes flew open. Butch was going to shove her away, but he found that oddly, he liked it. A lot.

Ever since then, Butch and Buttercup have been secretly dating. They would go out to Flyleaf concerts, prank Townsville citizens together, watch movies when nobody was home, go to fast food restaurants together. Butch always found it too cliché for a couple to go to a fancy restaurant. He snorted and said how much that reminded him of his pussy brother, Boomer.

One of Butch's favorite memories was when him and his girlfriend went through the McDonald's drive-thru. Without a car. And to make it seem like they were in a car, Butch made engine noises while Buttercup awkwardly read the menu, and she kept changing her mind to confuse the people working. When they got to the window, they both nonchalantly waved and snatched their food, leaving behind a dazed teenager and two green streaks of different shades.

Buttercup plopped her head down on the mattress and heavily sighed. Butch knew that something was looming above her head, like a massive and ashy storm cloud spitting rain water on her. It was obvious something was wrong. And Butch hated it when his girlfriend was feeling under the weather. Even when they weren't dating he hated it. She wasn't the same. Buttercup didn't have the same blazing temper and the fierce glares and the snark attitude. Her voice was gentle when she spoke, "Do you think they'll find out?"

"Who?" Butch turned his head to look her directly in the eyes. He shut off his phone and placed it calmly on the bedside table next to him.

The green 'puff sighed, "Your brothers. My sisters."

"Find out about what?" Butch raised an eyebrow.

"About us," Buttercup groaned, clearly she was frustrated.

Butch rubbed her temples, trying to ease her down, "Stop being so paranoid," he ordered. "They don't have a clue!" The green 'ruff exclaimed.

"Butch, I'm serious. Do you know what Blossom would do if she found out about this? And Bubbles...poor Bubbles, she'll be in tears!" Buttercup's apple green orbs misty with tears.

"Butterfly," Butch looked her firmly in the eye. "No one is going to find out about this." He indicated to the very little space between them, you could barely even squeeze in a magazine. "No one. And if they ever do..." He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. The green 'ruff had a slightly pinkened face.

"Well, I won't leave your side," Butch whispered. He roped her in for a kiss, her hands immediately flying their way to his obsidian hair. The kiss was passionate, both of their minds were clouded with lust. As the heated kiss prolonged, Buttercup discarded Butch's pants and tossed them on the ground, causing him to chuckle. She moaned into the kiss when Butch sucked on her bottom lip. Butch's hands roamed everywhere, past her creamy thighs and across her hips. He popped the buttons on the shirt open, one by one, and slipped it off her slim shoulders. The shirt joined his pants on the floor.

Butch was kissing her neck, blowing hot air along her bare collarbone that made Buttercup shiver with delight. The green 'ruff pecked Buttercup on the cheek before moving back down. Butch kissed her in between her breasts, and he continued to travel lower, leaving wet kisses in his wake. He reached her naval, and Buttercup arched her back and a tiny gasp escaped her mouth. Butch's fingers were trembling beside Buttercup's panties-

_**RING!**_

"Damn it!" Butch screeched. He leaned over to grab his phone and jammed the answer button. "What?"

"Hello to you, too, Butch," his golden-haired brother spoke. "Um, I wanted to know if you had waffle-pancake mix? I thought you said waffle mix," he said to someone beside him. "Oh well. Um-do you have pancake mix?"

The green 'ruff had a hard time keeping his cool, "Boomer, I have no _fucking _pancake mix," Butch growled.

"What a fucking idiot," Buttercup's whisper went unheard by Boomer. Butch smiled down at his girlfriend and ran his fingers lightly over her sides, causing her to squeal and smack him lightly.

Butch could hear his eldest brother's voice through the phone, "Don't need to be a prick, Butch."

Butch's amused face fell from tickling Buttercup, and it twisted in a livid expression. "Shut-up!" Butch ended the call and threw his phone at the wall.

"Yeah, Butch, don't need to be a prick," Buttercup mocked his brother. He chuckled and shook his head, bringing her in for another kiss.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Yeah. I'm not real good at...well, this. But it fit the greens. R&R.**


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